


The Fall

by SuddenlySullen



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Religious, Biblical Themes (Abrahamic Religions), Demon!Damian, Demon!Dick, Demon!Jason, M/M, Priest!Bruce, Rape/Non-con Elements, VERY UNDERAGE, demon!Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-23 00:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuddenlySullen/pseuds/SuddenlySullen
Summary: “Though I feel scared, my emotions need not control my actions. Father, may Your words direct my thoughts and actions. Help me release the hurt and begin to love as Jesus loves, that I may see my offenders forgiven in my Savior’s eyes. If I can be forgiven, so can they. We are all Your children, and Your desire is that none shall perish. Guide me, Lord, so that I can see those who caused my pain as children of the Most Holy God. Help me find the compassion that comes with true forgiveness. Help me guide them back into your light.”





	The Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Toxicity_Warning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toxicity_Warning/gifts).

Father Bruce looks up at the visage of Christ above the altar, choking back the tears pricking his eyes. He wears only a casual linen shirt and pants, having left his cassock in his quarters. The doors remain locked, for the first time in anyone’s memory. He can’t bring himself to be concerned with the rumors now. Dropping to his knees before the image of Christ, he prays:

“Dear Lord, thank you for your gift of forgiveness. Your mercy flows to me in spite of my faults and failures. Help me demonstrate unconditional love today, even to those who hurt me. Lord, I pray forgiveness for not only myself, but also for they who have sought to cast me from Your light.” Bruce takes a deep breath before continuing.

“Though I feel scared, my emotions need not control my actions. Father, may Your words direct my thoughts and actions. Help me release the hurt and begin to love as Jesus loves, that I may see my offenders forgiven in my Savior’s eyes. If I can be forgiven, so can they. We are all Your children, and Your desire is that none shall perish. Guide me, Lord, so that I can see those who caused my pain as children of the Most Holy God. Help me find the compassion that comes with true forgiveness. Help me guide them back into your light.”

“And when I see those who hurt me, bring this prayer back to my remembrance, so I may take any ungodly thoughts captive and make them obedient to Christ. And may the confidence of Christ in my heart guide me into the freedom of forgiveness. I praise you for the work you are doing in my life, teaching and perfecting my faith. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.”

**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Twelve Hours Earlier ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**

A knock at his door interrupts Bruce’s thought. Looking up from his bible, he readjusts his collar before standing to open it. Before him, the newest member of the nunnery stands. Her hands twist around each other and she keeps her face tilted towards the floor.

“What is it, Sister?”

“Father,” she mumbles. “Mother Superior said we should wait til morning so as not to disturb your slumber, however, I think you may need to come see for yourself.” Her voice quickens. “There seems to be something very wrong with the boys that the tanner found wandering the woods. They speak in tongues, Father. The other children are frightened.”

“Thank you, Sister,” Bruce nods. He thinks, perhaps, that the poor girl may be overreacting to the shock of seeing such troubled children for the first time, but decides to accompany her if only to soothe the minds of the other little ones. “I shall come see to them at once.”

She lets out a heaving sob of relief. “Oh thank you, Father. Thank you. I’ll take you right to them. The others have left their bedrooms and come to our personal quarters, too scared to stay close. I know they aren’t strictly allowed, but Father you should have seen them.”

“What Mother Superior doesn’t know won’t hurt us, hm?” He tries to keep his tone light in the hopes that the poor thing might calm down.

The nun (whose name he regrets never learning), leads him through the long hallways of the convent to the childrens’ quarters. Upon their arrival, he begins to understand what may have scared the other children. Even from a distance, he can hear a disturbing wailing. 

“Father, I-” The nun fidgets slightly.

Bruce smiles in what he hopes is a comforting enough way. “I think I can find them from here, Sister. Go on back to the others if you will.”

She trots off quickly and Bruce can’t help but shake his head thinking about what Mother Superior would say if she knew. He hoped not to find out. Following the hall towards the noise, he realized that there seemed to be several small voices singing. Though they were not, English, he understood the words well and wondered to himself how the Sisters had not. He made a mental note to discuss brushing up on their Latin with Mother Superior.

_ “Via l’aspersorio, Prete, e il tuo metro! No, prete, Daemones, Non toma in dietro!” _

A shiver ran down his spine as he opened the door to the room where four boys, none looking no older than twelve sat in a circle on the floor.

“Pueri!” Their singing stops and four sets of curious eyes look up at him. “That is enough. You’ve scared the Sisters quite enough for one night. Let’s get your clothes on and back into your beds, hm?”

As soon as the words have left his mouth, Bruce processes the fact that every one of them is as naked as the day they were born. His cheeks flush as he buries the thought.

The smallest, sharpest-looking boy sneers. 

The oldest-looking among them’s eyes dart to the first boy before he puts on a forced grimace.

The furthest boy from him keeps an unreadable expression on his face, eyes locked on Bruce. Bruce isn’t sure he’s blinked even once.

Almost directly at his feet, the closest boy has the roundest, cutest face. Bruce tries to remove the thought entirely from his head, saying a silent prayer. He thinks this must be some sort of test of faith. The boy’s head cocks to one side and he has the nerve to smile, seemingly amused by Bruce’s attempt to get them under control. As if this isn’t hard enough for Bruce, he even has dimples.

“Up, up.” Bruce claps his hands twice, eyes on the boy closest to his feet. “What is your name, my child?”

The boy looks across the room to his brother, who Bruce still doesn’t think has blinked, before looking up at him once more. “Tim.”

“Up you get, Tim.” 

When he stands, the boy’s face is just level with Bruce’s sternum. Bruce feels a slight stirring in his chest and maybe somewhere a bit lower at the sight. He turns away, giving himself a moment without looking at them to collect himself as he pulls nightshirts and undergarments from the closet next to him. When he attempts to hand them to Tim, the boy simply cocks his head to one side again, blinking up at him with blue eyes.

“Put these on,” Bruce commands him with as much force as he can possibly muster. 

The boy looks back at his brothers once more before looking up at Bruce and offering only a slight shrug with both palms turned up and open.

“You do know how to put clothes on, yes?”

The boys collectively shake their heads. Bruce lets out a pained sigh as he looks around the room at them, wondering where their parents were and what had happened to them.

~~

_ At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And he said: "Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like the little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me. (Matthew 18:1-5) _

~~

“Come here,” Bruce beckons Tim closer. 

Tim looks hesitantly back at his brothers before stepping forward just inches from Bruce’s chest. Bruce kneels down, putting them at almost an equal level. He lifts Tim’s hand for him, then places it down on his shoulder so that he can balance himself. When he takes a pair of undergarments into his hand and leans over the boy's shoulder, he hardly manages to stifle a gasp. Across the backs of his thighs and buttocks are several purple lash marks. They stand out angrily against his pale flesh. When his fingers ghost over them, he can feel the slight flinch. Though they seem to be fading, Bruce can't help the rage bubbling in his chest. Pursing his lips, he guides Tim to step out of the undergarments (for fear of hurting him, he tells himself) then rocks back onto his heels to pull the nightshirt over his head. The size is just slightly too big, making Tim seem even more small and scared. Unbecoming of a priest as it may be, he wants nothing more than to pull the boy into a protective embrace along with all of his brothers. 

"All of you, up. Come along." Bruce means for his voice to be sharper, more commanding. What comes out of his mouth sounds a lot like a plea. It seems to work, though, since one by one they rise to their feet. "You all have names?"

"Damian," the sharpest one answers quickly. His voice somehow just as sharp as his face.

"Dick," says the boy in the back of the room, eyes still locked on Bruce. His voice is soft, almost cautious. 

"Jason," the oldest looking of them answers. When Bruce looks closely, he thinks he can see faint scars along his torso. 

"I am Father Bruce Wayne. Let's get these clothes on and you all will be coming with me to my quarters until we sort this nastiness out tomorrow." 

Dick and Tim both nod. Damian and Jason shoot glances at each other, but do not protest. They pull their nightshirts on in silence. Damian practically drowns in the large shirt that Bruce gave him, but it softens the sharp lines of his elbows and the places where his slim form has bones sticking out. In the hall, distant voices can be heard. Tim moves in closer to his right side as the voices get slightly louder. Bruce can't make out what is said, but assumes it to be the Sisters talking to the other children and trying to convince them to go back to bed. Suddenly, Dick grabs ahold of his left hand, surprising him. When he looks down, Dick's other hand is gripping tight to Jason's. Damian scoffs where he's walking behind them. 

They arrive in Bruce's quarters and he is suddenly saying silent thanks for the fact that it was decided he should have a queen sized bed. He motions towards it and Damian bounces forward immediately, throwing the covers back and crawling to the head of the bed. As he does, the backs of his thighs and pale, but bruised cheeks are exposed by his nightshirt. Bruce flushes, feeling the waves of guilt for even noticing. He reasons with himself that he only looked to see the extent of the bruising so that he may swiftly and properly replace Mother Superior come morning. Jason follows, tugging his hand free of Dick's grip so that he may climb in as far as he can from Damian. Tim is up in the bed almost immediately after, curling himself against Jason's side. Bruce waits for Dick to join them, but he seems content to stand at Bruce's side, icy blue eyes staring up at him. 

"Go on, Dick," he finally urges. "I'll be right here," he gestures towards his desk where his lamp is still burning and his bible lays open. "I'm just going to be preparing for mass." 

Dick finally lets go and climbs into the space between Tim's back and Damian's side. His shirt is small on him and rides up as he moves, giving Bruce a view of his unmarred behind and the way his member moves between his legs. When he settles, one hand runs through Tim's silky black hair. Tim rolls so that his head is resting on Dick's thigh and Jason follows, curling around him. Bruce forces himself to look away when his pants start to feel tight. He turns back to his desk, burying himself in his bible, and decides that perhaps this week's sermon should focus on lust. 

_ ~~ _

_ Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body. (Corinthians 6:18) _

_ ~~ _

Bruce keeps himself immersed in his work, very nearly forgetting the boys that he assumes are now sleeping on the best behind him. That is, until a hand touches his shoulder and he turns to see Dick standing next to him. Behind them, the other three boys are sound asleep. Bruce thinks he might even hear the faintest of snores. Dick, however, is still standing before him, one hand on his shoulder, looking at him like he expects something. When Bruce turns slightly to ask if he needs something, Dick sits down on his lap without a word. Bruce can't help but be very aware of the fact that he has no undergarments, especially with the way Dick has chosen to sit with his back pressed to Bruce's chest and his legs spread, somehow both obscene and completely innocent at the same time. His head rests on Bruce's chest, eyes closed for the first time Bruce can remember. When Bruce dares to look down his chest, he immediately regrets doing so. Dick's nightshirt has been forced up by his spread legs, giving the Bruce slightest peek of the tip of his member, looking so soft and pale against the black of his cassock. He tries to continue to focus, forcing his thoughts back to every verse he can recall about lust. 

~~

_ On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor and our unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty, which our more presentable parts do not require. But God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it, that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. (1 Corinthians 12:22-25) _

~~

Bruce's free hand moves of its own accord to rest on Dick's leg, fingers brushing against the soft skin of his inner thigh. Bruce feels him shift slightly at the touch, though his eyes remain closed.

"He’s pretending, you know.” Even whispering, Damian’s voice is harsh. 

Bruce’s hand flies away from Dick’s leg even as Dick’s eyes are already open, his face turned to look at his brother. The guilt coils deep in Bruce’s gut, making him feel sick.

“Just come to bed,” Damian speaks again. “He won’t sleep otherwise.”

Dick makes a choked noise, but says nothing.

“We don’t bite,” Jason’s voice is soft over Tim’s sleeping shoulder and for a moment Bruce could swear he had seen a flash of fangs in his mouth.

Bruce sighs, rubbing his eyes. He knows the lack of sleep must be getting to him if he’s seeing things. Tired and stressed, his will has been eroded far enough for him to push aside his judgement and stand up, cradling Dick in his arms. He sets Dick down next to Damian, realizing that there really can’t be enough space in his bed for all of them.

“Father, that can’t be comfortable,” Jason mumbles. “Please, we couldn’t bear to put you out.”

“Yes,” Dick agrees, his eyes open and locked on Bruce once again. “Pater, please.”

Bruce knows he shouldn’t. He knows he should leave this room and run straight to the chapel and pray until the skin on his knees cracks. He knows this and yet he’s loosening his collar. He unbuttons his shirt, pulling it off and setting it over the back of his chair. His belt comes next, resting on top of it. He takes a deep breath before divesting himself of his pants, leaving them where they fall on the floor. He blinks back a lone tear of guilt, says a silent prayer for strength to resist temptation, and climbs onto his bed that, for the first time, doesn’t feel cold and empty. He thinks, once he’s in it, that the bed has somehow become larger than it looks from across the room. While he pinches his eyes closed, trying to forget about the young, soft boys that are scattered around him, he feels Dick moving at his side. His eyes open in time to see Dick climbing on top of him to rest his cheek against his chest. He should scold the boy. He should move him back to the bed. There are many things that he  _ should  _ do. What he does is bring one hand to rest on top of Dick’s back. He thinks for just a moment, in between awake and sleeping, that he feels the rustling of something underneath the boy’s nightshirt.

~~

_ For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment (2 Peter 2:4) _

_ ~~ _

When Bruce slips into sleep, he dreams of angels. Four young, mischievous, imperfect angels who love just a little too hard and are sent falling, screaming and frightened, into a lake of sulphur where their brilliant, blinding wings burn and shrivel up into small, leathered ones. Mouths that once sang hymns of praise are full of fangs, choking on the words that once burst forth from their very being. Horns burst violently forth from tiny skulls, ripping visceral screams from their chests. Pieces of bone scatter, letting blood seep down their sobbing faces.

Bruce wakes with a start, chest heaving. He nearly forgets, in those first few moments, that his little angels are in his bed with him. When his eyes open, he sees them almost as they were in his dream. Small, dulled horns rest atop Dick’s head. Their color is somewhere between blue and black, a shade that Bruce thinks doesn’t exist anywhere in the world. Damian, at his side, is adorned with twisting black horns, looking sharp enough to pierce straight through a man. Tim, curled against his side, has his thumb in his mouth. Where it opens, Bruce can see sharp fangs resting against his lip. His horns curl backwards against his skull. They shine both amber and gold, all at once. Over Tim’s shoulder, Jason’s head rests on a pillow. His horns are the most staggering to Bruce. They are a dulled red color, reminiscent of blood, and appear to be broken off into jagged points, as if someone had tried to smash them away entirely. The most striking difference from his dream, though, is the fact that every one of them seems at peace. Their breaths come in soft waves and there is not a scream to be heard. No blood soils their small faces. 

Fear tightens in his chest, something deeper than any fear he’s felt before. It’s as if his body knows that these little creatures bring evil with them. He brings his hands up to Dick’s waist in an attempt to move him off his chest. His body, light and soft where it rests, is immovable to Bruce’s hands. He shakes his head slightly, brushing one of his horns just slightly against Bruce’s chin. Bruce isn’t sure why he’s surprised to find it warm, but he is. On some level, he thinks he expected it to be cool to the touch. When it moves away, he finds his skin begging for more.

“Go on,” Damian whispers next to him.

Bruce turns in time to see the fangs poking out of Damian’s mouth and the thin tail flicking out from underneath his nightshirt that matches the color of his horns. Curiosity overcomes him as his hands slide down, pushing Dick’s nightshirt up over his rump to reveal his tail, resting limp against his leg as he sleeps. He keeps going, one hand sliding up under the shirt and against the bare skin of Dick’s back until he bumps into something leathery that twitches just slightly when he touches it. Dick’s small body shudders against him, hips rolling on his stomach. Bruce swallows, knowing for certain that there are demons in his bed.

“There’s no use fighting it,” Damien’s voice whispers again. “You might as well enjoy it.”

“Most glorious Prince of the Heavenly Armies, Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in our battle against principalities and powers,” Bruce whispers, eyes locked on the ceiling. Dick shifts on top of him again. “against the rulers of this world of darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places."

“It only works if you mean it,” Jason’s eyes are locked on him now. “You aren’t even fooling yourself.”

“Come to the assistance of men whom God has created to His likeness and whom He has redeemed at a great price from the tyranny of the devil. The Holy Church venerates you as her guardian and protector,” Bruce’s voice shakes. He knows they’re right, somewhere deep inside himself. 

Dick’s eyes open, looking up at him curiously. Bruce knows that it has to be a trick, but he swears he can see the pain of millenia of rejection on their innocent faces. He knows this and yet he is weak. His voice falters, trailing off away from his prayer. Dick opens his mouth to lick over his fangs before pressing them into Bruce’s collarbone. 

“Please,” Bruce whimpers. “I can’t. I took a vow.”

The bed shifts and Bruce sees Damian tug his own nightshirt off and move his way down to pull his undergarments off. Dick slides himself slightly to the side, giving Bruce a better view as Damian’s clawed fingers move over his stomach. Bruce whimpers, genuinely frightened now. Several quick bites are placed up his inner thighs, teasing at the strength behind their small jaws.

“If you truly don’t want them, we could always just take them away,” Jason’s voice is dark as Damian suddenly has his mouth around Bruce’s balls.

“I- No, please.” Bruce shivers, trying not to move. Each movement presses tiny pinpricks of fangs into his sensitive flesh. 

Jason chuckles. “No? But your  _ vows _ , father.”

Damian’s tail flicks back and forth. Small wings flex on his back. His eyes are sharp as they look up, past Bruce to Jason.

“Please,” Bruce’s whine is desperate, tears starting to fall down his cheeks. He grips Dick’s hip tighter, for lack of anything else to ground himself.

Tim lets out a yawn, forked tongue poking out of his mouth. “Don’t break the new toy just yet. We’re so hungry.”

With a last roll of his tongue, Damian releases Bruce’s balls from his mouth.

Bruce turns to Tim, sobbing, “Thank you, thank you.”

Tim pushes at Dick’s shoulder, sending him rolling all the way off of Bruce’s chest so that Tim can take his place. Tim has no claws, gripping with only fingertips as he steadies himself to run his tongue over the trails of wetness on Bruce’s face. When Bruce moves his hands to the front of Tim’s thighs, he thinks he can feel the exact moment when he becomes irredeemable in the eyes of the Lord. He gives himself over to the little demons, allowing his body to react to their soft touches. Tim allows himself to be tugged forward so that he sits over Bruce’s face, hands bracing on the headboard. Bruce brings his mouth to the soft member between Tim’s legs, taking all of it into his mouth to bask in the feel of it. It’s so small and soft in his mouth that he fears he might hurt Tim if he handles it too roughly. Using only his tongue, he licks Tim all over, making his small body shudder over him.

He can feel bony knees around his hips and knows that Damian has climbed all the way atop his hips. His own cock jumps when Damian grinds down against it for a few quick thrusts. Tugging his hips forward, Bruce licks over the soft flesh of Tim’s hole, just as he feels Damian pressing his own down against his cock. Tim moans, almost so soft that Bruce doesn’t hear it. Bruce lets out a slight whine of protest. He worries that he’ll split the boy in half. His fears are pushed aside though, when Damian forces himself downward. It is impossibly hot and impossibly tight around Bruce’s cock. He thinks he might come with only his head inside of him. Using all of his self control not to thrust his hips upward, he directs his energy into fucking his tongue into Tim. Small thighs tremble around his head and Bruce has to grip tight to Tim’s thighs to keep him still enough that he can keep moving his tongue in and out of him. Damian slides further down his cock, letting out quiet breaths that still manage to sound threatening. When Bruce lets out a pained moan at the tightness, Dick’s hand moves gently over his stomach, comforting him. 

Bruce feels the bed shift and knows that it must be Jason moving. Fear tightens in his stomach when he can’t see what’s about to happen. Without warning, Damian is forced all the way down onto his cock. The small boy lets out a pained noise, followed by an inhuman hiss. Bruce sobs into Tim, still desperately moving his tongue into him. The heat and tightness of Damian around him is so much that it hurts as much as it feels good. When Damian starts to move his hips in small circles, Bruce can’t control himself anymore. His hips jump off the bed in quick thrusts that move Damian’s entire body as he pumps his seed into him. Damian lets out a pleased purring sound and is off of him as soon as his cock has stopped pulsing. 

Before he can go completely soft, Jason’s hand is around him, jerking him in quick, demanding motions. He tries to twist away, but small, strong hands keep him pinned in place and he isn’t even sure whose they are. It hurts, even as he feels himself growing fully hard again. A clawed thumb brushes over the head and it draws a scream out of him, muffled only by the soft flesh of Tim’s ass. Almost immediately, he feels a second orgasm coming, this one somehow more painful than the first. Just as his cock begins to jerk, though, Jason lets go of him and he feels no waves of pleasure, even as his cock spends across his stomach and chest. Jason’s fanged mouth licks the seed from his chest, ignoring his throbbing cock. Where sharp fangs drag across him, there are stinging trails that Bruce thinks may even be bleeding. Dick moves from his position next to him, angling himself so that he can wrap his mouth around Bruce’s cock. Bruce lets out a pained moan, trying to jerk his hips away, but Dick’s mouth only tightens around him. Damian’s small hands lift one of Bruce’s off of Tim’s hip, sucking two of his fingers into his mouth for a brief moment before pressing them against Dick’s ass where he has lifted himself up onto his knees. Bruce presses his thumb into the impossible tightness, using the rest of his fingers to grip the softness of Dick’s member where it hangs limp between his legs. Dick’s mouth drops open around him at the same time his own goes slack against Tim. He feels the pulsing of his cock and though he isn’t sure anything even comes out, Dick is sucking eagerly at him until he has spent everything he can and then keeps going, dragging pained moans from him. He tries to pull his hips away, even knowing that the effort is futile. Everything is too much on his sensitive flesh.When Dick finally releases him, Bruce feels completely wrung out all the way down to his bones. Tim moves away from his face, tugging his nightshirt off before moving down the bed to position himself on his hands and knees, giving needy whines. His hips roll as if he’s searching for more contact. Thighs tremble where he’s supporting himself.

“Go on, father,” Damian urges.

“Don’t keep him waiting,” Jason’s dark voice agrees. “He’ll die without it, you know.”

“Pater,” Tim whimpers.

Bruce drags himself onto wobbly knees, running a hand over Tim’s back. Tim is so small that Bruce’s palm spans almost the entire width of him and he feels the immense shame in how much it spurs him on. He has to lift Tim up by the hips, his knees coming off of the mattress, so that he can pull the boy back onto his cock. Bruce tosses his head back into a moan that comes from deep in his chest. He supports Tim’s body with one forearm, fucking into him without hesitation. His other hand curls around between the boy’s legs, using his forefinger and thumb to stroke along his limp member.

“We can’t even get hard,” Damian whispers in his ear.

Jason is on his other side, humming in agreement. “Just the way you like us.”

A sob rips through Bruce’s chest as he comes one last time, buried deep inside of Tim.

  
  


~~

_ You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and the cup of demons too; you cannot have a part in both the Lord’s table and the table of demons. (1 Corinthians 10:21) _

~~

When his eyes open, Bruce sees the Sister that came to retrieve him the night before standing in his doorway. Her hands cover her mouth, but there is no mistaking the took of terror and disgust in her eyes as she turns and sprints down the hall, screaming for Mother Superior.

“Now they’ll all know,” Damian says softly.

“Again,” Jason shakes his head.

Tim gives a slight yawn. “Do you think they’ll move you somewhere new?”

“I hope so.” Dick nuzzles into the side of his neck.

“We’ll be back when they do,” Tim promises.

And with that, Bruce is alone in his bed. He rubs at his eyes with his palms, praying for the strength to keep from crying as he packs up his belongings, starting with a yellowed photograph of four angelic little boys with mischievous smiles that reveal, if he looks closely, tiny fangs.


End file.
